


Rest Before Battle

by InkFire_Scribe



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Before Battle, Developing Relationship, F/M, Friendship/Love, Jonerys, No Smut, No confessions, not my fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 04:11:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14762354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InkFire_Scribe/pseuds/InkFire_Scribe
Summary: In the quiet before they confront the Night King, Daenerys and Jon have a conversation that really isn't about what either of them were thinking.





	Rest Before Battle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iia_ao3ac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iia_ao3ac/gifts), [Buttercup_Bee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttercup_Bee/gifts), [JonisKing76](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonisKing76/gifts).



> The following story is for those who left positive reviews on my previous story, _Winter Proposals_ which was written by commission at the behest of **House_Hornwood.** I would like to apologize for the negative and sometimes toxic atmosphere in the comment section there - it was not my intention to make folk upset, and I hope that no real harm comes of it. 
> 
> For now, please enjoy a little Jonerys nonsense, and my gratitude. *bow*

The rush of air in and out of Drogon's huge lungs was like listening to the crash of the ocean against the beach. She had heard that sound many times, but it had never been so comforting as this sound was now. The dragon was curled on the bare earth, holding perfectly still under her hands. In, his lungs expanded, his scales rustled, the soft flaps of skin over his nostrils flared wide to show the moist black interior, streaked with red. Out, his ribs creaked softly under his hide, pressing the air out with a woosh, and his nostrils closed again.

What was it about his warmth, his presence, that made everything a little more manageable? Daenerys closed her eyes and pressed her hands flat to the cracked scale on his starboard flank. It was just starting to turn grey around the edges. He would shed it soon enough, but a part of her worried that this scale, damaged in their last battle, would be the fatal weak point. Tyrion had told her that dragonscale was harder than granite, and she didn't doubt his knowledge, but there would always be a part of her that worried about her children. 

Viserion was gone. What if Drogon was next? Or Rhaegal? She turned a little to look at the green dragon, sleepy and well fed, perched on a rocky outcropping nearby. Rhaegal turned his triangular head, focusing on her with one large eye as though he could sense her thoughts dwelling on him. 

"They trust you." A man's voice came to her, close enough that Drogon shifted slightly to look at the intruder. Dark-haired, pale and determined, clad in black. Jon Snow, of course. Daenerys looked at him, conflicting feelings warring in her ribcage. The longing for warmth and gentleness was there, and a firm trust in his moral compass. But there was also mild fear and suspicion. Jon Snow was a man who would do what he thought was right, with or without her knowledge. That sort of man could make or break an army. So far, he'd made one. Wasn't it only a matter of time before he did the latter? 

"They trust their mother," she corrected quietly. Daenerys met his gaze, lifting her chin slightly in a way she knew tended to make others uncomfortable. She knew she was above most. They didn't like being reminded of it. But Snow didn't look away or tense or scowl, or any of the other reactions she usually received. With his characteristic deference, he inclined his head to her and smiled slightly. 

"I suppose that just means you've earned their trust twice - once by raising them, and again by being strong enough to keep them when they were grown." 

The words were well-aimed, and struck like barbs in her heart. She remembered those terrible weeks when Rhaegal and Viserion had been chained and imprisoned, beyond her control. It had taken a long time for them to forgive her, and she still hadn't forgiven herself. 

Dany looked away, feeling small and mean, a worm of doubt beside these majestic creatures of bravery and freedom. Drogon lifted his head and swung it about to brush his nose against his mother's white-blonde head. 

Ice crunched, and Dany looked up in time to see Rhaegal descending from his perch. The ground around Drogon's body had been scorched and melted down to the bare earth, but not more than four meters past his recumbent bulk in all directions, the endless snow resumed, icy and inescapable. 

The green dragon crunched through the snow, walking on his wing-knuckles until he stood over Jon, looking down at him with eyes as clear and bright as any gemstone. 

"Hello," greeted Snow with a slight bow, seeming completely unafraid. Daenerys felt a twinge of envy, but kept her silence, waiting to see what would happen. "I never thanked you for your help, good dragon. You and your family saved our lives." Snow's dark glance flicked to Dany's face and back to the dragon again, and she knew he spoke not only to Rhaegal, but to her as well. 

"His name is Rhaegal. Named after my brother." One day, he would be as large as Drogon, though she wondered if even that would erase the guilt from her mind. 

"My thanks to you Rhaegal," said Snow respectfully, and swayed back on his heels when the green dragon lowered his head, stopping only when his nose hovered a hand's breadth from Snow's chest. They looked at each other for a long moment, then Rhaegal nudged him imperiously, knocking the man on his bum in the snow. 

"Scratch under his jaw, near the spines." Daenerys could tell that was what Rhaegal wanted, but wondered why he would demand it of Jon Snow. The man was good-hearted, brave, and intelligent, but hadn't spent much time with her dragons. Her mind flashed back to Snow's encounter with Drogon, and how the man had patted the dragon's blunt black snout without fear. And Drogon had allowed it. 

Snow, still sitting on the ground in his namesake, reached up obediently to scratch under Rhaegal's jaw. The green dragon's eyes slid shut and he growled softly with pleasure, like a huge, scaly cat. 

Dany knew then that there was no way she would be properly separated from Snow again. Not during the upcoming battle, not afterward. Her dragons had made that choice… and she wanted nothing to make the choice for herself. 

"Tomorrow," Snow said quietly, the words almost lost in Rhaegal's purring, "we face the Night King. These moments are the ones I want to remember, should I meet my end tomorrow." 

"Do you plan for your end?" 

"Yes. But I don't look forward to it." He looked at her, and there was a sadness in his face that she didn't understand. Her heart twisted, and she wondered at her own vulnerability. This wasn't her first battle. She had led her men into war, and she would not stay behind now, when there was so much at stake. 

"I don't know anyone that truly does." She paused, and the words pressed at her lips until she released them. "They trust you, too." 

Snow continued scratching Rhaegal's jaw as the dragon slowly lowered himself to lie on the icy ground. 

"I'm not sure they should. It's too high an honor for a bastard." 

"But not too high for a king." Daenerys turned away and climbed onto Drogon's back, settling herself between the webbed spines at the base of his neck. The big black didn't take his eye off her, shifting to keep her in view. 

She couldn't see him, but she heard him get to his feet, and Rhaegal's squeal as he stopped his scratching. A beast that large oughtn't make such a noise, but she couldn't explain dignity to her children any more than she could explain why their brother was cold and blue, waiting for them less than a league from where they rested. 

"I'll have furs sent out to you, Your Majesty." Snow's voice was deferential again. "And supper. You'll need food and rest to be ready for tomorrow." 

Crunch crunch crunch. He was walking away, and she still didn't know why he'd come. Cautiously, she lifted her head until she could peer over the webbed spines watch Snow's black figure retreat. There was something that he'd left unsaid. Perhaps, if they survived tomorrow's battle… she would ask him what it was. 

**Author's Note:**

> I would like to apologize if any of the details concerning the dragons are inaccurate - I haven't yet finished reading the first book, so my knowledge of the beasts is limited to what I could gather from the GoT Wiki. My specialty has always been _Lord of the Rings,_ so I'm a little out of my depth with this new fandom.


End file.
